Found
by jazwriter
Summary: In response to a prompt for a DWP comment fic-a-thon. The story takes place in Paris during the evening of the day when Andy walked away. Got it? Prompt was the song "Soon We'll Be Found." Mirandy


Found

Prompt: Soon we'll be found, written and sung by Sia Furler…given by ikbenniethier for the DWP Wake The Muse: Comment fic-a-thon . hosted by mxrolkr in June 2011. You can watch the video of the song here: watch?v=0laf7XR_QAo&sns=em

Mirandy NC-17

Special thanks to quiethearted, shesgottaread, and peetsden for looking it over.

**Sia: Soon We'll Be Found Lyrics**

Songwriters: Sia Kate Furler; Jr. Nowels

_Come along it is the break of day__  
><em>_Surely now, you'll have some things to say__  
><em>_It's not the time for telling tales on me___

_So come along, it won't be long__  
><em>_'Til we return happy__  
><em>_Shut your eyes, there are no lies__  
><em>_In this world we call sleep__  
><em>_Let's desert this day of hurt__  
><em>_Tomorrow we'll be free___

_Let's not fight; I'm tired, can't we just sleep tonight__  
><em>_Don't turn away, it's just there's nothing left here to say__  
><em>_Turn around, I know we're lost but soon we'll be found___

_Well it's been rough, but we'll be just fine__  
><em>_Work it out yeah we'll survive__  
><em>_You mustn't let a few bad times dictate___

_So come along, it won't be long__  
><em>_'Til we return happy__  
><em>_Shut your eyes, there are no lies__  
><em>_In this world we call sleep__  
><em>_Let's desert this day of work__  
><em>_Tomorrow we'll be free___

_Let's not fight; I'm tired, can't we just sleep tonight__  
><em>_Don't turn away, it's just there's nothing left here to say__  
><em>_Turn around, I know we're lost but soon we'll be found _

Miranda pressed the button and listened to the rings listlessly, knowing the phone would not be answered. She had tried calling several times already. Sighing as the call was forwarded to voice mail, she disconnected it and carefully placed the cell onto the side table. Picking up a half-empty tulip glass, Miranda eyed the single-malt scotch morosely. Normally when she indulged, she quite enjoyed the flavors, the sensuality involved when her taste buds met the distinctive flavors. Not tonight, though. Tonight she sat in her hotel room, Lagerfeld's latest creation restricting her motion, Jimmy Choo shoes kicked off, as thoughts streamed through her mind. They all revolved around one person: Andrea.

Andrea, who had walked away several hours ago. Andrea, who had not even deigned to look back. Andrea, who would not answer her phone. Andrea, who had impressed Miranda to the extent that she had decided to include her within her inner circle, teach her everything, trust her. This, at a time when she could trust no one. Her peers, her husband, her employer. They had all tried to destroy her. Yet, Andrea had attempted to protect her, warn her.

Miranda should feel angry. Here she had extended herself, or at least she had begun to do so until Andrea had objected, had tried to say they were nothing alike, as if the idea were anathema to her idealistic sensibilities.

That had not felt pleasant. Miranda had reacted automatically, pointing out plainly how Andrea had stepped on top of Emily, climbed over her to get ahead when she chose to go to Paris with Miranda. Whether Andrea wanted to acknowledge it or not, she'd made her choice. Just like Miranda had chosen to take Nigel's dream job away from him in order to save her own position. Sometimes the choices were not fair. Sometimes they hurt other people. Yet, they were necessary choices.

Andrea had made another choice, the choice to leave. It had hurt Miranda more than she cared to admit, even now, late at night in an expensive Parisian hotel suite, as she drank alone.

A knock on the door stirred Miranda. She stood up, glass of alcohol in hand, as her eyes slid to her discarded shoes. Automatically, she began to don them before shaking her head and kicking them off once more. It was late. She did not need to look perfect. A stranger would not dare to show up unannounced.

Miranda's heart beat faster at the thought. Who was at the door? Could it be? Would she dare?

Wrenching open the door, Miranda saw it was, indeed, Andrea. Standing aside, Miranda indicated for her to enter. Miranda noted that Andrea looked horrible. Her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed, clothes wrinkled, hair limp. Andrea entered slowly, as if her feet were bothering her. Glancing downward, Miranda couldn't help but think that they must be extremely sore from wearing those five-inch Louboutin heels. She closed the door and walked past Andrea to the sitting room.

Miranda did not sit. Nor did Andrea.

"Miranda, I'd like to explain—" she began.

"No." Miranda held up a hand. She did not want to hear her explanations. Not tonight.

"Please, Miranda," Andrea beseeched. She looked close to tears.

"Andrea, it has been a very long day after an even longer night." Miranda raised a hand and rubbed the back of her neck while looking down at the ground. She was so tired. Tired of the machinations inherent of the corporate world. Tired of the fallout, the emotions, the sacrifices.

She wanted the day to end, knowing that tomorrow Andrea would still be by her side. She wanted to close her eyes and immerse herself in the nothingness of sleep. No lies, no arguments, no subterfuge.

Seeing motion out of the corner of her eye, Miranda lifted her head and watched as Andrea slowly turned and walked toward the door.

"Don't turn away," Miranda said as she moved quickly to intercept Andrea.

"I, you said, you didn't want me to explain," Andrea said, confusion evident in her voice and face.

"I did not tell you to leave," Miranda said softly.

"So, I, Miranda, I'm so sorry for how I—" Andrea said, her intention to apologize resurrected. Miranda stopped Andrea from saying anything else by placing her hand against moving lips. Andrea's stream of words stopped immediately, lips parting as a gasp slipped through.

"We will discuss everything tomorrow." Miranda studied the darkened eyes and flushed cheeks for several moments. Andrea was trembling, her hands clasped against her breasts as Miranda continued to hold her stare. Andrea had returned. She had walked away, but she had come back. It was not to get her job back. That much was clear. Andrea's entire demeanor indicated that strong emotions were at work.

Slowly lowering her fingers, Miranda grasped one hand gently and stepped forward so that their bodies barely touched. "Stay," Miranda requested and tilted her head, watching Andrea swallow convulsively. Running her hand up an arm, Miranda rested it on a shoulder and pulled. Her eyes slid closed as their lips met. Unhurriedly, Miranda applied pressure to the luscious lips against hers, taking the time to taste Andrea fully. Loving the texture of soft lips brushing against hers, Miranda moaned her appreciation before running the tip of her tongue against Andrea's bottom lip. In the next moment, Miranda felt her legs weaken as their tongues rubbed together deliciously.

After several intense kisses, Miranda pulled back to look into Andrea's eyes. Nearly black, they begged Miranda to continue. Without a word, they walked slowly toward the bed in the adjoining room.

Miranda thought about the moment when she'd realized Andrea had walked away. How lost she had felt. How that emotion had corresponded with the look she had seen in Andrea's eyes directly before Miranda had exited the car. They had both felt lost just hours ago. Soon they would be found. In each other's arms.

Communicating through touch, Miranda undressed Andrea, caressing, worshipping really, each area of her beautiful body as it was revealed. She began with the feet, removing the high heels and rubbing the aching appendages as Andrea moaned her appreciation. She continued the massage up toned legs and flexing thighs before skipping up a shivering torso to unzip Andrea's dress. She took time to kiss the stretch of supple skin between shoulder blades, nibbling where shoulder met neck, before turning Andrea back toward her.

Miranda could not help but smile at Andrea's obvious desire. She kissed Andrea languidly, becoming lost in the tastes and textures as her hands finished the task of removing Andrea's dress. As one kiss flowed into the next one, Miranda's hands explored each indentation of the spine, the span of muscle between ribs, the flare of hips that moved against Miranda erotically. "Andrea," she whispered against swollen lips. She felt Andrea's fingers unbuttoning the front of her dress, hands carefully pulling the dress away from Miranda's body. She shuddered as those hands kneaded her buttocks through her thin, silk panties.

"Miranda," she heard whispered against her parted lips.

With each moment spent exploring Andrea's body, Miranda felt less lost. She poured all her feelings into these touches, all the words she could not say, not yet. Miranda knew Andrea was integral to her future happiness. Andrea must stay with her. And now she knew, she knew Andrea felt similarly. They were similar in many ways—and in this instance, Miranda hoped Andrea would not fight this truth.

The last twenty-four hours had hurt them both. It was too soon to discuss those feelings. The bruises were too fresh.

Somehow Miranda found herself lying on the bed, Andrea swaying over her provocatively as their breasts brushed together. Groaning at the contact, Miranda pulled Andrea on top of her body, opening her legs to wrap around shapely hips. She wanted to feel Andrea against her. She needed to have her close. Thrusting her pelvis up in time with Andrea's motions, Miranda gasped for air as her body reacted forcefully to the stimulation. She could see her climax on the horizon, feel it roaring through her body. The force of her feelings—the grief of losing Andrea, the exhilaration of her return, the desire to keep her near, the fear that she would leave again—all propelled Miranda into an explosive orgasm.

Through the haze of feeling, Miranda heard Andrea's shout of release as their bodies continued to move together. Miranda held Andrea tightly, her head tucked into the crook of her neck. As their orgasms wound down, Miranda, feeling Andrea pull back, opened her eyes. The smile she received reassured her more than any words could.

As they settled down to sleep, exhaustion making itself known, Miranda heard Andrea murmur, "I felt so lost. I had to come back."

"Mm. I quite understand that sentiment." Miranda stared at Andrea for a moment. "We will discuss everything tomorrow. In the meantime, you must accept without question that we will survive rough times as long as you do not run away. I must know, Andrea," Miranda's voice broke, "that you will not run away again." She felt tears traitorously gathering at the corners of her eyes as Andrea nodded.

Andrea's face transformed, remorse warring with affection. As she watched the parade of emotions cross Andrea's face, Miranda wondered whether she looked as mussed as she feared. Miranda shook loose the thought borne of insecurity and reached up, tangling her fingers into disheveled chocolate locks to pull Andrea forward for a kiss. Sighing with pleasure and a sense of freedom, Miranda tucked Andrea into her side, ready for sleep.

Two lost souls found in each other's arms. This truth reverberated throughout her being, and her soul soared.

The End.

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End file.
